Twilight v2
by ginnyinvisible
Summary: For those who are sick of an infatuated girl paired with a "perfect" vampire. A Bella with a brain, sense, self-preservation, and that annoying humanity; an Edward with more than a pretty face; and a Twilight without the cliche. Twilight v2.
1. Chapter One

For those who are sick of an infatuated girl paired with a "perfect" vampire. A Bella with a brain, sense, self-preservation, and that annoying humanity; an Edward with more than a pretty face; and a Twilight without the cliche. Twilight v2.

This is just an experiment. I wish to go over the original story as if Bella had actually had a mind of her own, as if Edward was portrayed with flaws instead of the traditional "fall over him omg hotness!!1", as if there was more to the story than the traditional Cinderella. I will not rewrite the entire story, as it would get quite boring. We Twi-loverz (or haterz) already know the plot so I'm just going to skip between one-shots ;D

Have fun! I don't know how well this will fly since I'm sure most of the people on this site are 12-year-olds just to read about Edward the Sparkly Vampire's amazing abs and face and hair and and and.

I will go by popular demand; would you like me to do more in depth on certain aspects? Or did I skip a scene you'd like to read? Just let me know in a review.

I am attempting, in short, to write Twilight; without the cliche.

Therefore I will start without the "Everything is owned by the OMGAMAZING STEPHENIE MEYER!!!! Although I WISH I could have Twilight, especially Eddie-wardddddd *winkwinkwink* *lick lips*"

The fact that I haven't created the plot-line (which, by the way, I will edit somewhat to fit my slightly adjusted characters) should be pretty obvious to everyone here. Sue me.

---

I get to school early.

The halls are empty, voiceless tombs, graffiti covered walls and lockers papered with wrapping paper. It doesn't bother me. I've always liked being alone, and the quiet wins over high school chatter, hands down. It is kind of eerie though when I put my crap in my locker, the banging sound of the textbook against the old rusty metal, "fuck you" written with a ball point pen near the bottom.

In such a small town, there's no other people like me, no other night-creatures who get up at four, run, then drive their half-dead truck over here to wander the halls alone. In Phoenix, there were a couple, but night-creatures aren't social. I just walked past them as they sat, wedged in that section between two sets of lockers, reading science fiction novels. Just like everyone else.

In such a small town, everyone else is asleep at five in the morning. Not only the people, but the lights, the cars, the grumbling machinery behind the buildings that always seemed to be insomniac like me in Phoenix. Here it's quiet. Nice quiet.

I don't really mind moving to Forks. Sure, it's rainy, grey sky, pretty blah. But it's better than Phoenix. Anything's better than Phoenix. And this is kind of my habitat; I'm a pretty rainy, grey, and blah girl myself.

I'm glad to be here with Charlie. Here, I don't have to listen to a cunt of a woman who calls herself my mother. Here, I don't have to look after myself and her and her boyfriend and the house and the bills and the groceries and make sure she gets in every night and uses a condom and and and.

Here I can be myself. And who knows who that'll be?

----

At lunch I'm picking at my food. School lunch is poisonous; I had discovered that as soon as I started kindergarten. And this table I've been led to by pinching lying fingers is noisy and loud and fake, and I don't like it.

I thought this school would be better, less population=less trapped-ness, right? Instead, less population=you get singled out, everyone lies/pinches/wants you, and you're an endangered wild cat in a ten-foot-squared rain forest space and civilization pressing pressing pressing around you.

I just want to find some bathroom stall somewhere where I can eat a bruised banana from home in peace.

They're talking, laughing, now, these people who I don't know. And it's just voiceless, meaningless radio noise that blurs my vision and my hearing and I can't breathe

I get up to get a drink of water. The old water fountain is all the way across the cafeteria, and I'm closing my ears as I walk there. And then I don't really want to drink because it's unfiltered and nasty and poisonous, and besides there's chewed gum on the spout.

I turn and see them.

They're on the farthest table from the middle, somehow separate from the crowded cafeteria, an invisible steel wall. And if I went over there, sat down next to them, then the yellow-clouded air would clear and I would finally be able to breathe.

But really, you know, it's all the same air.

One of them looks up and meets my eyes, curiously. I don't mind staring, so I continue to look. He seem unusual, somehow. Unblemished pale-white skin, unnaturally smooth features, piercing sick-yellowish eyes. Like some diseased mountain lion or something, and my night-creature self cringes.

My eyes move over to the girl. She's tall, blonde, haughty expression, pale white face, immaculate.

It's as if they all went to Dr. Plastic Surgery, and said, "Hi, I want to be the perfect American. I want to have nice white, smooth skin without a single zit, and I want beautiful hair without split ends, and I want my body like this and this and this."

I'm the kind of girl who will dislike you immediately if you're wearing an Aeropostale shirt and a skirt that shows legs you tanned in a white room for hours, because conforming makes you an animal. It makes you sick in the mind. Inhuman. And these people... some would say they look perfect. But "perfect" is an opinion, if one propaganda'd into the minds of 95% of the population. Because real perfection is... not this. Not this sick imitation.

And there's something wrong about them. I'm not an idiot. They don't look right.

I'd take normal instead any day.

So I smile at them, and turn and go back to my seat.

----

So, one of the Plastic Surgery Kids, the young one, hates me.

I'm in Biology and, of course, I get paired with him. And this entire time he's been on the edge of his desk, face twisted into a scowl, like he can't stand the disgusting smell of someone who doesn't emanate Botox.

It's really hard to concentrate on the class when someone's glaring at some zit on your face or whatever it is like they're ready to nuclear bomb the world to get rid of you.

Class ends and Plastic Surgery gets up instantly, but I'm ready too, and I grab onto his arm. His skin is cold. Is that what happens when you get too many skin transfusions or whatever they're doing these days?

He's shocked and instantly rips his arm out of my grasp, and I wince at the flash of pain that sends itself all the way up my arm. "What is your problem?" I ask, the pain making my voice harsher than I meant it to be.

He looks remorseful for a moment, and then he just looks constipated, face held rigidly in a polite expression, lips pressed tightly together. "I--"

"Look. I don't know what the hell you have against me, but if you really want to, I can change seats." I'm glaring now. "Learn to bear with the rest of the human population once in a while? We're all stuck in the same world."

In Spanish, my wrist is still hurting with repeated twinges of pain that correlate my pulse, and it won't go away, and I can't bear it, any of it

----

"Look, I'll just do the work. I've done it before." His voice is silky and smooth, assured and cocky.

"So have I." My voice is cold, the whisper of a night-creature. His is trying to be friendly, but I can smell the irritation behind it, the hatred, the fear. And his strange eyes look at me and I won't meet them because I'm not afraid I'm not afraid but I am.

"I could do it faster."

"I'm sure you could." I yank the microscope over and put the slide in. It's prophase and I scribble the answer down.

"Can I see?" His crooked smile grimaces at me and I imagine punching out his straight white teeth. Why do I dislike him so much? Is it because I can feel my bodily instincts say RUN and I've never been one to run?

"No." Emotionless because I have nothing inside me.

He's a little taken aback, and then falls back into an easy smile. This creature I've seen before, the one who wants to be friendly and nice and control you and suck your life out. "I'm sorry. I must have appeared rude to you. I'm Edward Cullen."

"You know who I am, of course."

"Of course." His smile twists my words back to me and now they're ugly and wrong. "You come from Phoenix, right?"

"Yes."

"How do you like Forks?"

I roll my eyes. I really don't want to have a conversation with whatever this guy is. "Look, Cullen, I don't like Forks, I don't like this school, and I don't like anyone in it, but I've got to stay here for another two years so lets get on with it and label the next slide."

He continues staring at me throughout the rest of the period, and his sickly yellow eyes burn my hair and my scalp and my brain goes "NO NO NO" and I want again to RUN.

----


	2. Chapter 2

It's snowing again. I wake up at five and it's all over the yard and the road. Of course, there will still be school. This is Washington. Duh.

I walk to school because there's no way I'm going to be able to drive the truck. Heavily muffled in about six hundred scarves, my thin lips and shallow cheeks still feel cold and numb. I don't like feeling so vulnerable.

The walk is nice, though. I've needed my monthly connection with nature, and it's nice to be up here so early before the people wake up and mar this weirdly clean world. It's an anachronism; something that shouldn't be here, belongs in another past.

I know in a few hours, the snow plow will grumble through the streets, peppering with salt and sand, crusty and dry. And humanity will once again populate the roads.

I see the white beauty and it melts away and behind it the snow at the curbs is stained with black cavities and the grey of cancer.

I'm at the parking lot of the school. Voices are loud and high and nails screeching against chalkboard, and I'm not willing to go inside the school. Instead I lean against someone's car and I close my eyes. Ice forms over my eyelashes and knit them closed so I'll never be able to see again.

And then something hits me, knocks me down, cracks my head against the cold, frozen concrete.

The hinges of my eyelids creak open, cracking the icy rust, and Cullen is on top of me. His body is touching mine and it's cold and his eyes are cold black and my stupid human body says RUN FROM THE SCARY BOOGEY MONSTER.

And then a big SUV comes up from behind and kind of crashes into him, and yeah, he doesn't even notice because it's more important that he continues having eye contact with me.

"Are you okay?" he says.

He just got hit by a billion-ton sport utility vehicle and he goes "are you okay".

My hands are scrabbling, struggling to get up, and I can't understand what he is/is saying. "I'm fine. What the hell did you just do?"

His lips move but my ears are frozen shut.

My brain is leaking out of this one spot on the back of my head and my hair is sticky with sweet crimson/golden corn syrup.

----

"I saved your life."

Yes, and I hate you for it.

"Can't you just thank me and have it over with?"

"Thank you." My words are mocking. "For doing exactly... what? Standing there and letting the van crush itself around your body? Normal."

He stiffens. "I'm not... exactly normal."

"Yes."

For some reason the simple word frustrates him. "Just... you can't tell anyone. You can't. I can't tell you... what it is... I can't explain. And you're just going to have to deal with that."

"Why?"

"Because you're just a pathetic human!" bursts out of his mouth, and his eyes flash, and I again feel my skin stretch away from my body, pulling away. He's glaring, and he's angry, and I'm the little scared human, and HE'S IN CONTROL.

"Then what are you?" I force out. I can't show weakness.

He's trembling now, his hands gripped into fists, and he's angry because he's scared that I know something. And knowledge is control so I smile big. "You don't have to tell me," I say. "I will find out."

----

So apparently some dance is coming up. There are posters in the hallways and decorations and words that sneak into my mind and then I'm getting attacked.

"Hey, Bella!" It's some faceless boy who's perched on my biology table like it's his home. I'm supposed to know his name but I don't. I smile vacantly. "I was wondering if you were going with anyone to the dance?"

I feel Cullen stiffen next to me and look up. Does he have laser vision or something that can burn my skin like this?

"I'm not going," I reply coolly.

"Oh," the boy says, face falling. I don't feel any guilt because my conscience has been mutilated into red flayed shreds years ago.

Once my suitor has left, I turn back to the book Cullen and I are sharing. He's looking at me, intrigued. "Why are you so removed from others? So cynical?" he asks, honestly curious. "You should be happier. You have a good life, you're young. Why are you like this?"

His words make my teeth slam together, cool aluminum elevator doors. "I am happy."

"Did you just say you weren't going to the dance to get rid of Mike?"

"Yes. Well, I might be going to Seattle then anyway."

"Would you go with anyone else?"

"Probably not." Why is he interrogating me?

His lips curve upward and his eyes flash. "If I asked you, would you say yes?"

"No." I slam the book closed and anger pulses through me, shooting liquid fire into my arteries. "Why are you even talking to me? I'm a fucking human. You're whatever freak you are. I need to do my work."

----


	3. Chapter 3

A night-creature girl slinks through the dark sidewalks of Seattle. She's alone and she doesn't care, her posture is straight and without fear. This is her element.

I got a ride down here from one of my faceless lunch buddies, but abandoned her once she became sufficiently engrossed in twenty-five inch heels. Night-creatures are not meant to be trapped in huge bright color/metallic department stores, all artificial lights and pop music and the smell of fat people.

I'm trying to find the bookstore. I was in such a rush to breathe dark air that I didn't stop to ask a store attendant directions, and they were all smoking pot in the back anyway. I'd been here before, some past summer, so I know it's somewhere around here, but not sure where. My feet wander through quiet city streets while my head flies among blind carrion birds.

Sometimes I think I should just peel off my clothes and fly away like a little awkward ugly duckling turned swan. But then I'd come out of the moonlight and eat rotting dead bodies and everyone would see I'm not a white swan actually, just a ratty-winged black crow.

My night creature ears here someone coming behind me, quiet footsteps. It's two, maybe three people, and little-girl-prey inside me tightens up in irrational fear. My white fists hang rigid at my sides and my eyes stare straight ahead. I count my steps inside my mind and they're all I can think of.

I pass a gas station, and the steps behind me quicken. I turn, glancing behind, tips of my bangs grazing across my cheek and the razor edges slice into my skin, but I have no blood inside my withered/scared/white/helpless body so I don't bleed.

Behind me are two men. They seem to be in their twenties or early thirties, smiling, with the cold bitter smell of predators. They say something, murmuring, whispering, but my ears are frostbitten and dead and dropped off. I turn and run and suddenly I'm not a night-creature, I'm not a withdrawn and ethereal being, I'm a very real girl with bulky long limbs and brown hair that flies in her face and muscles that burn and lungs that give out big angry pants and a heart that explodes leaving droplets of blood splattered all over the city.

I can't run because when I'm in girl-mode, I'm stuck in this body which has limitations pulling me to the pavement, and they're catching up and I'm not strong and THEY ARE IN CONTROL.

I see an alley, sprint into it, see two more men and almost run into a large, muscled chest. The owner grips my wrists and pulls me tight into a choking grip. The other men circle around him and they're saying scary things and I scream inside because I'm really more innocent than I think I am.

"Don't worry, sexy, you're going to have fun," my captor murmurs at me, touching my hair. I want to burn it all off and I cringe back. "Come on, don't do that." He yanks my shirt up and presses me against the wall, covering my mouth with his own when I try to scream and I want to puke. He's touching my body with both hands and the other men are touching me too and I twist around RUN RUN RUN.

My knee goes up and lashes out, he yelps and jerks back in pain. With my hands freed, I claw at his eyes. He cries out because now I'm on him and now I'm hurting him and I can't stop because adrenaline/fear is still coursing through my veins, controlling me. Someone else yanks me back, holds my arms behind me, and I continue to kick and jerk my body. I'm not feeling anything because I'm not really there. I'm still up with the crows that no one sees because they blend in so well with the black sky.

Then a black car turns into the alley, speeding, almost hitting one of the men. Cullen My Lab Partner jumps out.

My eyes can't comprehend why the hell he'd be here, so I just stand there, a stuffed scarecrow with button eyes and no shirt and my jeans yanked down a little. He punches the door open--it comes off the hinges--and in a blur of motion throws the man who was just holding me against the wall.

I hear a sort of crack and

there's pain/screaming

I'm against the wall now watching the horror movie but where's my $7.95 buttered popcorn and Raisinets

Cullen's black eyes and gritted teeth I can't believe it this is bullshit this isn't real

there is blood on the black jacket that lays at my feet

"Get in the car."

someone's alive and moaning and crying

"Bella! Get in the car! We need to leave now!"

this is not quiet silence night-creature world, this is scary red and blood and scream world and the little night-creature girl is burning her eyes out by staring at the red sun too long

"We have to go! The blood--I can't--We'll call the police afterwards but I can't stay here. Come on, Bella, please!"

night-creature girl is led by puppet strings to the shotgun seat where she curls up and goes to sleep and finds out it was all a dream

"Bella! Talk to me. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?" A sweater is put in my lap and I realize I have no shirt on; I'm shivering in just my bra. Someone pulls it over my head and gently touches my skin to guide my arm in the sleeve, and I shiver away from the cold touch.

night-creature girl tries to wake up and be strong because nothing happened, she doesn't care, she's just fine

"N-no." I force the word out and pinch my lip with my teeth for the stutter. Why can't I be strong? "I'm fine." I'm staring straight ahead and he's driving now, world whipping by, away from the carnage behind us and the scary monster-men and the scary monster-creature in the seat next to me.

He grits his teeth and I can hear it like it's my chicken bones between his black fox jaws. I pull my skinny arms back through the sleeves and fold them across my rib cage, encased in the large green sweater. I feel so helpless and I hate it. My body is helpless and my mind is helpless and what else is there for me to rely on to name Me.

"What happened there?" Cullen is also staring straight ahead, and he is trembling. I saw what he is, how could I not have? And little girl-human wants to run away and hates him because of it. "I was walking. I was lost. They started chasing me and trapped me." And then the prince came and I got away and lived happily ever after except the prince happens to be a vampire and a monster.

He looks at me, and makes a forced smile. "Only you would encounter a group of rapists in Seattle."

I refuse to meet his eyes, but force out the words I have to say according to etiquette. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Now he is sneering, all his prior uncontrolled fury dissipated into a mocking calm. "That's the second time I have saved your life. Can't you humans take care of yourselves once in a while?"

I jerk up, puppet master yanks my chin up and says I have to act angry even though I'm still in shock. "Can you stop being so condescending to me? I don't care a shit whether you're a vampire or--"

He slams on the brakes and the momentum pushes me to the limits of the seat belt and my body slams against the rubber panel. I can't put my hands out to stop myself because they're trapped inside the sweater. He curses softly but harshly, pulling to the side of the road then placing a nervous hand on my back as I lift myself up. "Are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"I'm FINE." Actually, I'm sure I'll have bruises on my cheekbones tomorrow.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "You just startled me. Of course you've figured it out, how could you not have?" He turns away and sinks his face into his hands, frustrated again.

I wonder if he would be able to stop me if I just opened the passenger door now and walked away.

"Listen." His face is up now and his yellow eyes are burning. "You can't tell anyone. This is bad that you know this. I wish I could have done things differently..."

"Why is it bad?" I'm glaring, challenging, locking scared-little-girl deep inside me.

"You wouldn't understand, you can't--"

I abruptly rip his sweater off of me and half stand up. "Of course not. I wouldn't understand anything. You'll make the decisions and I'll go along with it because I'm the human girl and you're the scary vampire. Fine."

He now looks apologetic and I want to scream. "Bella--"

I open the car door and walk out. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

And the littlest piggy went "wee wee wee wee" all the way home.

---


End file.
